I miss the 'p' of your name / You were born a plosive
..
My thermal blanket I called you once

Something to put my unsocked toes under

I just remember feeling warm

And small

In a good way

Like a baby duck

Circling the kiddy pool.

Warm like coming up with excuses for the mall Santa,

Warm like you were born blind and just smelled waffles for the first time,

Warm like if I get pregnant I won’t even mind,

Warm like stupid.

Melted hands dripped maple syrup,

Always knotted my hair, made us change

The sheets.  Turned in the night

To iron, jealous and grabby.

Within blinks, it was soup

Grey and ungrateful with lentils.

We stared at it, crusting in its dusty bowl,

Like kids forced to watch their parents tongue.

Collard greens,

Sitting there getting sour, cold.

I felt absent,

Shoved you to the corner,  

Ignored until burnt,

So many unrecognizable crystals,

Forgot I’d ever been hungry.

Now, I miss the “p” of your name

I miss your caramel,

Your bathtub lungs.

My legs are asleep but I’m running

Muscles have been removed

--Or I’m driving,

I’m definitely spitting.

I’ll have to tend to these bruises

Molding underneath my skin,

With a Ziploc bag of ice or something,

Frozen peas.

Whatever I can find

In the back of that freezer.